Purple in the Rain
by Teschool
Summary: Reuploaded due to technical issues. AU Novelisation of the games in chronological order, rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

"* _Doors slam, windows shut close and lights turn off_ *

* _When the Purple Man comes down the road_ *"

A story is only as good as its characters.

Michael Afton.

William Afton.

Unlucky children who were at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Robotic Animatronics.

A complicated line of events that occur over the span of 50 years.

And the tale of a broken family, a man's journey to fix his father's mistakes, and a story of tragedy, pain and forgiveness.

* _Authors Note:_ *

* _This story is set such that certain events, some of which are non-canon, occur. Five Nights at Freddy's pizzeria simulator was just released 4 days before this Fanfiction was started. As such, if you are not alright with some alternate or 'wrong' facts, please read another Fan fiction._ *


	2. Nightmare Animatronics Part 1

Chapter One

* _Beep. Beep. Beep._ *

As the child ran back and forth the room, sweat dripped from his palms. He was a young child, around 6 years of age. A flashlight was gripped in his hand, flicked on and off furiously as he rushed to check the doors, and what could have been lurking in the dark hallways.

At 5 in the morning, the child only had one more hour to go before he escaped the hellish nightmare for a brief period of time, a respite that was so desperately craved. The young boy's eyes were sunken, his face pallid from the stress. Short cropped hair adorned his scalp, and he was clad in a patterned pair of pyjamas. Small, blue threaded birds could be seen on them. As he ran, the movement of the soft and damp fabric made them seem as if their wings were outstretched, ready to take off and soar into the night sky. The already large bedroom seemed even bigger as he struggled to maintain his composure, breathing heavily. His legs nearly buckled as he ran, a clear sign of the physical fatigue. No normal person, especially a growing child, should have had to run non stop for that long. The only thing that kept him going was adrenaline, anxiety and most prominently, fear.

Right door. Check.

Left door. Che-

The boy's panicked mental state jolted as he opened the door and shone his flashlight to illuminate what could only be called a demon from his worst nightmares.

A lavender coloured suit that had grown decrepit and moldy was standing there. Holes could be seen everywhere on the animatronic as it heaved and puffed in the hallway, right outside the door. Bare wired were revealed through the holes that were littered around the suit. Frayed as they were, they could not cover up the broken and battered endoskeleton inside the suit that supported it and allowed it to stand upright. As the head of the animatronic bunny lowered to stare at the child with red, glowing eyes, the weak glow of the flashlight shone on its face. A large gaping jaw that covered a third of its face smiled at the child menacingly, baring the many rows of sharp teep inside. The bunny ears were snapped back halfway, and tattered. Scars and holes dotted its face, as it moved towards the child.

Blood filled the young boy's vision as the animatronic ripped his chest apart, a gurgly static noise that sounded oddly like a scream emanating from its broken artificial voice box.

The screaming continued as the young, sobbing child awoke again to the same room, in the dead of night. A alarm clock at the side of his bed revealed that it was 12 AM in the morning. It could have been a nightmare, he told himself, shaking as cold sweat flooded his now dry pyjamas. I'm going to wake up in a few moments, and everything is going to be alright. But no matter what he told himself as he once again went through the room checking the doors and the closets, a dark thought nagged at him that he forced into the dark recesses of his mind.

The evil lurking in his house only really stopped at exactly 6 A.M, when he awoke from the prison in his mind.

Now, this could have been seen as a coincidence, if it weren't for the damned fact that this exact scenario had occured for the * _last three nights_ *.

A flash of inspiration came over him, a product of his childlike creativity. The 6 year old recalled the four other nights he had experienced and finished beforehand. Something was definitely different this time, on the fifth night. It almost seemed as if the animatronics were * _waiting_ * for him to shine his light on them, to catch him by surprise. He intended to use that to his advantage, to grab ahold of any opportunities that presented themselves to him that would allow him to escape the nightmares.

He had always been an observant child. Living with his older brother had ensured that. Their relationship wasn't exactly a good one. Michael, being the older of the two, had a sort of superiority complex. Coupled with the fact that their father barely paid attention to them and was always immersed in his work, it meant that more often than not, they were left all alone. That meant harassment, teasing and, if Michael was in a bad mood, violence. In fact, his brother could be described with one word.

Sociopath.

The lack of both a mother and father's presence in a family meant that they could only rely on themselves. And while his brother decided to fall back on the sense of superiority, the younger brother took comfort and familiarity in his only friend.

His Fredbear plush toy.

The younger Afton brother rushed around the room, but with a different goal in mind. Instead of trying to find the animatronics to keep them away, perhaps he could try to * _hide_ * instead of delivering himself to them. The previous strategy had worked the previous few nights, but the animatronics in his house, no, his nightmares, seemed much more active that night. A change of plans was needed.

He'd learned a few neat tricks to keep away from his bully of an older brother. Whether it was barricading the doors that couldn't be locked because of poor house design, or hiding in a spot where he wouldn't be found, he had done them all. Taking a broom and a dustpan from the thankfully empty closet, he quickly placed them across the two doorframe, intersecting with the handles, that were thankfully not knobs. * _This should keep them out for a little while,_ *he thought to himself as he tied the handles of the closet together with the lamp cord that he had tugged out. Briefly admiring his work, he remembered that he still wasn't finished. There was still the fourth one he couldn't keep out of his room, the bear. Glancing at his bed, the three miniature and tattered dolls of the Freddy animatronic giggled and slid off the bed, out of view. It had been far too close to comfort for him. Once four of the dolls gathered, they would allow the broken and disfigured Freddy animatonic access to the room even with the doors closed. Tugging with all of his energy, he dragged his desk out just enough for him to turn it around, and quickly slid into the small space. Holding the inside sides with his palms, the tired child finally managed to drag the desk back to its original position, with it being reversed and himself hiding inside it. He thanked whatever god might have been watching that the design of the desk was to have three wooden sides propping it up, with an empty space inside for leg room. No matter where they were, the 'nightmare' animatronics, as he called them, would never be able to see him. At least, that was what he told himself. With the desk opening to the wall, he was completely enclosed by all four sides. It was eerily silent, the only sound being the boy's soft but tired breathing. The mental fatigue that had accumulated over the nights had taken a toll on him.

With only the bedside clock and his flashlight next to him under the desk, he did what any other child would do after all that had happened. He accidentally fell asleep.

The boy was suddenly awoken by a loud and thunderous crash. Momentarily forgetting where he was after being jolted from his peaceful slumber, he sat there, dazed. Heavy footsteps could be heard pacing the room, searching for an unseen target. Covering his mouth with his hands in an attempt to smother the sounds of his breathing, the child nervously sat deathly still, as if the slightest movement would alert his tormentors to his location. He prayed that they would not notice the odd alignment of the desk, that their intelligence and recognition would be affected by the sheer fact that they were robots.

The footsteps paused right in front of him.

A cry of despair hovering right inside his mouth behind his lips, threatening to escape was swallowed back down when the sounds of whatever was barely a meter away, separated only by a flimsy sheet of wood walked out of the room.

A quick glance at the alarm clock illuminated by the dull light of the flashlight revealed the time to the panicked child who was crying silently.

4:50 A.M.

He'd had low expectations for how long a wooden janitorial tool would last against a hulking metal beast, but could not handle the truth when confronted with it.

In fact, it had lasted an incredibly long time already. Two hours under the occasional barrage of animatronics that were * _8 feet tall, made of metal, and able to rip apart flesh like paper_ *. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough.

The question the sobbing child asked himself was, which door had been crushed?

The crash that had awoken him was definitely not a sound something like a broom or dustpan would make when broken. No, it could only be the product of strong metal breaking apart a door forcefully.

Being unable to open the door to peek inside, either the bunny or the chicken, if you could even call them that, had lost their patience and had decided to just conpletely destroy the door.

Now, even if he'd wanted to do what he had done the previous nights, the boy would have one empty abyss, either on his left or on his right. He would not be able to hold the door shut like he had.

* _Hold the door shut like he had._ *

How on earth had he been able to overpower something like that in the simple task of holding a door shut? Putting aside the matter of strength, his torturers were made of metal, and would have an insane weight ratio compared to his own. How had he done it? How? Especially when they had just easily destroyed the door that had clearly been stronger than the broom and the dustpan combined?

Once again, he couldn't handle the truth.

The secret was not that the boy had super strength, or supernatural powers, or that he was gifted in the art of pulling doors shut.

* _They had been toying with him_ *.

Giving him an illusion of hope. They had put a glass of water in front of a thirsty, dying man, and knocked it over as soon as he had managed to touch it.

For that, at least, the child was both grateful and terrified. He had a chance of surviving, but the robots could also take it away easily.

He could only follow the illusion, he could only hope.

For it was the only thing that had a sliver of a chance to keep him alive, the only thing that he could hold onto that prevented him from literally going insane.

And the first thing he needed to do, was to quell the curiousity in him about which door had been rendered useless.

As the boy was about to move, loud footsteps suddenly echoed throughout the room.

* _Freddy._ *

A pair of softer but much faster footsteps accompanied it.

* _Foxy._ *

Now, there were four animatronics in the house. The Fox and the Bear had joined the other two hallway lurkers.


	3. Nightmare Animatronics Part 2

The footsteps around the room continued on aimlessly. The young child could only hope that the tattered state of the Animatronics also meant that their AI was affected. Although sentient artificial intelligence seemed like a dream, his current state meant that anything could happen. If the Animatronics' hardware responsible for their thinking had been damaged as well, it would probably affect not only their motor skills, but prevent them from doing anything out of the ordinary such as move the furniture around to search for him. Although they had facial recognition and could tell even the slightest of movements he made, as long as he stayed out of sight, the boy would be fine.

Assuming their AI was damaged.

It seemed, and was, unreliable to have his survival and to a certain extent sanity balanced on this very precarious possibility.

The boy waited nervously for the footsteps to subside, for what seemed to him like an eternity. It wasn't as if he could do anything even if he knew which door had been destroyed, but the child just wanted closure. Peace of mind. Anything that would help distract him from the morbid truth that was around him.

Perhaps hope was an illusion, the real villain in Pandora's box. A villain that gave and took away depending on the situation. Whereas the others who were first released were direct and vengeful, Hope was the exception. A cruel, scheming, conniving monster that was the first one to learn how to manipulate people.

Slowly gripping the side of the desk that wasn't pushed against the bed, the unsure child made a quick decision while he couldn't hear anything.

He moved the desk, just slightly, allowing him to stretch his head out into the darkness of his room.

The moonlight streaming from the hallway windows didn't just illuminate the empty space of both door frames, they illuminated the three large, broken silhouettes that were standing still in the middle of the room.

One with abnormally large ears that were bent backwards to a gruesome angle, as if listening for any sounds that might escape it.

One that had a beak, that had both arms torn off, exposing the wires and circuitry that it was made up of. A head far too large, that contained a mouth far too wide, spread too far apart.

One who's hook gleamed with crimson red that dripped off of it onto the carpeted floor, who's snout sniffed around for a scent, a clue as to where their unseen and unknown target was.

The young boy's eyes widened as he ducked back into the safety of the desk, accidentally making a soft thud as he rushed to move the desk to its original position.

His floor may have been carpeted, but the walls certainly were not.

The metallic whirr of machinery sounded throughout the room as the heads of the Animatronics whirred towards the source of the sound.

The footsteps that had merely stopped earlier became louder and louder as the monsters walked towards the sound of the noise.

The child, desperately, flicked on the flashlight and pointed it at the alarm clock.

5:57 A.M.

As his eyes started watering with despair at how close he had been, how his curiosity had ruined him, the thudding of metal on the floor stopped right in front of him.

The young child's life flashed before his eyes.

Out of the blue, a voice could be heard right in front of the desk.

"I'm sorry. We all are."

As his vision blackened and faded, the child heard the faint sounds of beeping right next to him while the table was thrown to the other side of the room.

"~I will put you back together.~"

The sound heart rate monitor beside the bed of the motionless boy unwavered as the shrill sound pierced the sombre air. Michael Afton sat by his recently deceased brother, looking blankly at his body. Nurses shuffled around the room, wordlessly preparing to bring the body to the morgue.

The teenager felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Turning around, his father's drooping body could be seen behind him, his face heavy. The loss of a child and a spouse had evidently taken its toll.

~No father should have had to outlive his children~. His face was littered with far too many wrinkles that a man his age should have had. Once ebony black hairs had slowly turned ivory, giving him a aged look. His shoulders sagged, as if the weight of the world hung upon them. His lean and taut body was still dressed in his purple uniform from Fredbear and Friends.

"~This is all your fault~"

The unspoken words hovered amongst the air that surrounded them, whispering inside the boy's ear as the father stared at him.

"It isn't your fault, you know." 

* * *

"There's no doubting what you've achieved on a technical level. These are clearly state-of-the-art. There are just certain… "design choices" that were made for these robots that we don't fully understand. We were hoping that you could shed some light on those."

"She can dance. She can sing. She's equipped with a built-in helium tank, inflating balloons right at her fingertips. She can take song requests. She can even dispense ice cream.

"With all due respect, those were the design choices we were curious about, Mr. Afton."


	4. Sister Location Part 3

_"Daddy, why won't you let me play with her?"_

* * *

 _"Welcome to the first day of your exciting new career! Whether you were approached at a job fair, read our ad in Screws, bolts, and hairpins, or if this is the result of a dare, we welcome you. I will be your personal guide to help you get started. I'm a model 5 of the Handyman's Robotics and Unit Repair System. But, you can call me "Handy-Unit". Your new career promises challenge, intrigue, and endless janitorial opportunities. Please enter your name as seen above the keypad. This cannot be changed later, so, please be careful."_

The young man that was Michael Afton nervously pressed the digital buttons on the rapidly spazzing display screen. His once innocent childlike features had been lost long ago, leaving a grave and solemn look on his face.

 _"I have seen what you are trying to type, and I will correct it for you. Welcome, Eggs Benedict."_

The usually sombre man let a rare grin crack over his face as he chuckled at the absurdness of the machine that he himself had created alongside his father. The piece of masking tape with the word "Mike" still proudly claimed its place on the top left corner of the device. Age had not spared the hardware, as faint cracks could be seen alongside the yellow plastic that covered the perimeter of the glass screen.

How long had it been since he had enjoyed spending time with his father? Michael could not remember.

Somehow, while the years had taken a toll on himself, his father William had weathered them remarkably well. Sure,the fifty-something year old man had more wrinkles than one his age should have, and his walking speed had decreased considerably, but William still possessed unusual strength, even when compared to a young man. Certainly, he had enough strength to continue building those damned machines of his. The machines that had slowly torn his family apart. First, it was his mother. Then, it was his brother. Finally, his sister. He had lost three quarters of his family to the animatronics that were his father's life work. His obsession.

Shaking his head to remind himself that it was not the time to dwell on such matters, Michael ignored the rambling voices of the HandUnit telling him prerecorded messages that he had heard so many times before with his father.

When the elevator came to a stop, Michael came to find a space boarded up with yellow police tape. Only a small vent, barely large enough to fit a grown man, was uncovered.

 _"You can now open the elevator using that bright, red, and obvious button. Let's get to work!"_

Following the instructions over the intercom, he crawled into the vent, briefly noting that the place smelt off. Like someone had tried to cover the metallic scent of blood with bleach. It only made it worse. The vent itself was clean enough, however, that he didn't mind too much.

As Michael crawled out of the far too small and claustrophobic space, he found himself in a small office. The Control Module had two large windows that covered most of the left and right wall, revealing two dark rooms that had absolutely no light coming from them. The mouldy green colour that was the walls of the Module made it seem decrepit and old, despite being relatively recently built.

 _"You are now in the primary Control Module; it's actually a crawlspace between the two front showrooms. Now, let's get started with your daily tasks. View the window to your left. This is the Ballora Gallery: Party Room and Dance Studio, encouraging kids to get fit and enjoy pizza! Let's turn on the light and see if Ballora is onstage. Press the blue button on the elevated keypad to your left."_

As the handunit droned on, Michael noted the rather disturbing masks of animatronics mounted at the front of the module. He never really did understand the design of the masks of the animatronics. Why did they have to be able to pop out like that? As if it wasn't creepy enough, the sheer fact that the inside animatronic design that was meant to entertain children was just straight out of a horror movie confused him.

Perhaps it was the innocence of childhood and youth that made the Funtime robots so endearing and pleasant to be with. They certainly weren't favourites among the adults.

What sort of maniac gave the Animatronics the ability to open up their masks and faces by themselves?

Certainly, it was his own father.

Snapping back to reality once more, Michael made a mental note to get more medications from his doctor. His thoughts that always seemed to be scattered all over the place were getting more and more distracting.

Pressing the blue button with a light symbol on it, Michael braced himself to see the haunting dancing figure of a feminine animatronic onstage, that danced on and on even with the lack of a audience.

He was greeted with the sight of nothing.

 _"Uh oh! It looks like Ballora doesn't feel like dancing. Let's give her some motivation. Press the red button now to administer a controlled shock. Maybe that will put the spring back in her step."_

A shock.

 _An electric shock._

Why on earth, did the animatronics need electric shocks to control them?

The fact itself was a testament to his father's ability. Despite all of William's flaws, deep down, he truly was a genius.

Creating robots that had such a degree of free thinking that they needed to be forcefully controlled via punishment. Heck, it was 1985, none of the other animatronic chains that had copied his father's first Fredbear's Family Diner had working AI. They had merely designed some fancy suits, workers were still in the costumes themselves trying to act as robotic as possible.

And yet, with just some wires, metal parts and tubes, William Afton had managed to create a thinking, working, robotic AI that was quite literally an exact copy of a human being's cognitive brain.

As he was pressing the red button with the lightning symbol, Michael Afton pondered about how remarkable all this seemed. Disturbing, surely. Creepy, definitely. But remarkable.

Michael cringed at the sound of an electric current echoing throughout the building.

Quickly pressing the blue button, he was morbidly relieved to see that the Ballerina was once again dancing on her stage.

 _"Excellent. Ballora's feeling like her old self again and will be ready to perform again tomorrow. Now, view the window to your right. This is the funtime auditorium where Funtime Foxy encourages kids to play and share. Try the light! Let's see what Funtime Foxy is up to."_

Michael was once again greeted with the sight of an empty stage.

This time, it took two shocks rather than one.

Perhaps if he shocked them enough, they would grow masochistic? Michael's inner sadist peeked out of its hole.

He really needed those meds.

The fox swivelled around, as if talking to a crowd of imaginary children.

 _"Looks like Funtime Foxy is in perfect working order. Great job! In front of you is another vent shaft. Crawl through it to reach the Circus Gallery Control Module."_

Glancing underneath the vertical fan that was on the other side of the room, Michael observed a vent. Only then did he realise that there were vents connected to both the Funtime Auditorium and Ballora's Gallery. He really, REALLY needed his meds badly. Michael's usually observant and intuitive self had been numbed by the constant lack of presence his mind had.

The vent shaft leading to the second Control Module was significantly dustier than the main Control Module entry way vent. Just as Michael was about to sneeze, a sudden female voice sounded out.

 _"Motion Detected, Circus Gallery Vent."_

Coughing violently from the sudden halt of the sneeze, Michael's eyes teared up. With only the faint glow of his flashlight illuminating the vent shaft, he eventually came into a tiny room. Barely six feet in length, Michael could lie down and just barely fit.

A circus announcer doll stood, mounted on top of a table that was full of knobs, speakers and buttons. Fuel canisters were fixed onto the left side of the room, with a larger canister on the right, in front of three small ventilation fans.

And, of course, if it wasn't creepy, enough, there was another doll hanging from some dangling wires on the ceiling.

This time, it took THREE shocks. Michael felt a certain degree of sympathy for the poor animatronics. Sure, their design was pretty disturbing, but not even they deserved the constant attacks of electric shocks when they didn't follow instructions to the bone. He assumed that the shockers were inbuilt into the animatronics, such that they couldn't remove the source of their constant torture by themselves.

And, after the third shock, Baby still didn't appear.

 _"Great job, Circus Baby. We knew we could count on you! That concludes your duties for your first night on the job. We don't want you to leave overwhelmed; otherwise, you might not come back. Please leave using the vent behind you, and we'll see you again tomorrow."_


End file.
